A New Beginning
by Lyra Dogstar
Summary: After Lily and James' death, Remus begins a new life as his own kind, with his own kind. Ah, another wonderful Remus fic. . . .
1. Joining the Hunt

All Remus could remember was flames. He set the whole house on fire: the curtains, paintings, furniture. The only thing he forgot was to set a way out for a way out. The place collapsed, burning on top of him...  
  
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The pack walked into the room. In it was a strange werewolf. Sergei looked at him, while standing behind the others, next to Louis.  
  
The stranger had brown hair, and fairer skin than most. Slowly, the stranger opened his eyes. Next to him, Sergei could hear Louis whisper, "Well of all the lovely."  
  
The stranger was beautiful. He had striking green and brown eyes, not like most of the others, who had various shades of blue. Sergei had known that he was different by the fact of his eye colour, which were black. He had never seen another with a different colour than blue, until this one.  
  
"Who the Hell are you?" was the first out of the stranger's mouth.  
  
"Not who, but *what*," Atrus, the pack leader, said, smiling slightly.  
  
"I know *what* you are. I want to know *who* you are," the stranger said, his voice slightly harsh.  
  
"In that case, I'll introduce you to my pack."  
  
Atrus began to point out who was who. Eleven total.  
  
First there was him. Atrus had auburn hair, tied behind him with a blue satin ribbon. Blue, that was his colour. Sergei couldn't remember how their colour was chosen, but he knew what each member of the pack had for their colour.  
  
Little Anya, who had come with her mother, Miranda. Both had curly blonde hair. Louis, who had dark blonde hair, a length between Atrus' and Sergei's, tied in a green satin bow. Cara, with dark brown hair. William, with white-blonde hair, and his brother Henrik. Irish Malachy, with black hair and green-blue eyes. Thomas, with sandy hair, and the person he was closest to, red-hair Cirrus.  
  
"And...where are you? Ah, yes. Sergei." Sergei was white skinned with black hair, longer than any others in the pack. In was slightly below the shoulders, and unlike his compatriots, it was not tied back. His eyes were black. He was black and white, even his colour was black.  
  
Anya walked up to the stranger's bed. "What's your name?" she asked.  
  
The stranger gave her a small smile. "Remus. I'm afraid I don't have a pack."  
  
In the distance, a small bell rang, signaling dinner. "Perhaps when you feel better you can join us," Atrus said, taking Anya's hand and turning out of the room. The other's passed Sergei. He only stayed for a moment before following.  
  
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Remus didn't know what to think of the werewolves that had helped him. His first thought was to be grateful.  
  
But when he looked into Atrus' eyes, he felt only distrust. It was like he was hiding something. There were others he felt complete distrust for. He also began feeling that they were hiding stuff not only from him, but from the rest of the pack.  
  
He trusted the little girl, Anya, and her mother, and Malachy. He felt himself trusting Louis too, but the others...  
  
He looked at the dark one, Sergei. His first impression was this was another to be distrusted. But then he looked again. No, Sergei, though dark, was trustable.  
  
He woke up again the next morning, and felt hungry. He looked around without sitting up, and noticed Anya looking at him.  
  
"Hello," she said.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"You said you don't have a pack?"  
  
"I don't."  
  
"But you have too." She climbed up onto the bed, while he pulled himself into a sitting position. "Everybody does. Maybe if you told Atrus a name you remember, he could help you find where you belong." She brightened at the thought of somebody finding their people.  
  
"My people are dead. There's nothing to be done," he said, somewhat sadly.  
  
"Oh." She looked down, sadly. "They must have been killed in that battle Sergei told the others about. The one at Moongate."  
  
"Yes." It was only half true. His godfather, who was also a werewolf, had been killed, and Loki, his godmother, was lost. His friends were all dead though, as was his family, but they were all human.  
  
"Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly, looking excited, "Maybe *we* be your pack. I'll be your friend, even if nobody else will."  
  
He smiled. The little girl was very sweet, and it was hard to be sad around her. "Maybe..." he said, still grinning.  
  
"Did you have a job before you joined us?" she asked, sounding as if he had already become a pack member.  
  
"I wanted to be a teacher. I was in school still, before it burned down," he said.  
  
She drew her legs up under chin. Her dress was a beautiful yellow, and a yellow ribbon tied back her hair. "Did you burn it down?" she asked.  
  
"What gave you that idea," he asked, shocked.  
  
"Somebody said you burned it down."  
  
"I didn't burn the school down. I burned a building that belonged to *me*. You should never burn something that isn't yours," he said, smiling again.  
  
"Do you often burn your stuff?" she asked, her eyes bright.  
  
"If I don't like it," then he whispered, "I do it all the time. But don't tell your mother, I don't think she'd like that."  
  
The little girl gave a giggle.  
  
"Don't tell me *what*?" A suspicious Miranda entered the room, dressing in a lavender dress.  
  
"I was just telling her about how I burned down my house," Remus said, looking sheepish.  
  
Miranda tutted him, but still smiled. She dropped a package on the chair that Anya had previously been sitting in.  
  
"Here's some clothes for you. Breakfast will be in about half an hour. Anya, go put on your shoes, we have some shopping to do soon," she said.  
  
Anya ran out of the room.  
  
Miranda walked over to a window and pulled the thick curtains open. "Some sunshine will do you good," she said, as warm light poured into the room.  
  
"So it will," Remus agreed.  
  
She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
Remus opened the package. Inside was three sets of pants, some shirts, a deep green vest, and several other vestments. When he reached the bottom, he pulled out probably the most gorgeous cloak he had ever seen. He knew that his eyes were the size of saucers as he unfolded it. It was forest green velvet, with a white silk lining and silver fastenings. Not real silver, he knew, but beautiful all the same.  
  
He got dressed, and went downstairs in time for breakfast.  
  
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I want at least three reviews (all from different people) before I do another chapter. 


	2. Plans and French Lessons

It seemed Remus had just gotten to sleep when he was tapped on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Louis standing next to where he had been under the tree.  
  
"It's raining on your book," he said.  
  
"Oh. So it is," Remus said, sitting up and putting it under his damp shirt in a futile attempt to keep it dry. Remus stood up and continued back into the large house with Louis.  
  
In the sitting room Sergei was laying across the sofa with a book lying open on his chest. Malachy was looking out at the yard, and Miranda sat sewing something. Anya was curled up on a giant armchair listening to Malachy talk. When Remus and Louis entered the room, she jumped up and ran over to Louis. Louis picked her up and sat down in the chair that she had just recently occupied.  
  
Atrus came in just as Remus sat down and glared at the group for a moment. Louis and Sergei exchanged a glance. Atrus left the room again without a word.  
  
"Uh-oh. Louis, he's mad because Miranda isn't wearing purple," Sergei said.  
  
"Why do you have certain colours anyway?" Remus asked.  
  
Malachy made an indistinct noise in his throat. "I don't know," he said.  
  
"You know what I think?" Sergei said. "I think Atrus is sooo fu--excuse me-- -organized, he wants to keep us colour-coded."  
  
"That's not why," Louis said exasperatedly.  
  
"Oh yeah? You have a better reason?" Sergei asked.  
  
"Well...no...but, still," Louis said slowly.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't over-analyze this stuff," Miranda said, shaking her head.  
  
"Ach. You always say that," Malachy said.  
  
"Let's admit it. He never allows us to do what we want," Sergei said. "Oh, if you could -see- Russia. It's gorgeous."  
  
"Here we go again," came a groan from the doorway. They looked around and saw Henrik standing there. "Sergei, Sergei. Still -whining-."  
  
"What's Russia like?" Remus asked immediately.  
  
Henrik got into a huff and marched out of the room again.  
  
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That's what life was like. Remus got along with those five better than the rest of the pack. They would tell stories fondly of their homeland. Remus soon found himself wishing to see the wilderness of Russia that Sergei spoke of, or the peaceful countryside of Ireland. Louis would tell of Paris, how they would go to ballets and rich parties, and see concerts.  
  
"What's Wales like?" Louis asked Remus once.  
  
"I don't know. It's green, I suppose."  
  
"Oh come on," Sergei said, "You can do better than that."  
  
"Well...I grew up in a large house. It's a two-story house with a porch you can sit on and look out at the garden. The garden's mostly herbs, Russian sage and thyme and rosemary. When you brush them the smell of them is so strong that even humans can smell them clearly. Mostly woods surround the house. If you take a walk in them it seems silent and at first, but then you notice all sorts of noises and movements. Down a path is the ocean. The smell of sea salt is sweet and fills the air.  
  
"There are always fields with sheep and such. You can get fresh cream every morning from the cows, and in the summer almost every day is sunny. Even on the rainy days it's warm. In the winter it doesn't snow. But it gets really hazy, and it's still warm, and you can walk down the road not knowing what to expect."  
  
Miranda sighed. "It sounds beautiful. I wish I could go there sometime."  
  
"It's not as good as I make it sound. It's a small village where everybody knows everybody else. And everybody is extremely superstitious."  
  
"When I change my name," Sergei said, "The six of us can visit Wales. We can go see Ireland, and we can stay on holiday in Russia. Then we'll go have a grand time in Paris."  
  
"Yes, Sergei. When you change your name," Malachy repeated.  
  
Sergei had been thinking of changing his name for a while. It was on their to-do list, along with travelling the world and breaking off from the pack to start their own.  
  
"I think it may change to Raskolnikov. It's a beautiful, Russian name, don't you think? It's one of my favorites," he said dreamily.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Though I suppose Marmeladov might not be bad. I wouldn't even mind Vladamir. But I hate my name," he said. "Remus, would you ever want to change your name."  
  
"I don't know. I suppose I would want to drop my middle name."  
  
"Don't. Remus is a beautiful name," Sergei said.  
  
"It makes -me- think of chocolate," Louis said. "And you can't pronounce it wrong. If there's one think I hate about my name, it's that so many pronounce my name the American way."  
  
"How's the American way?" Anya asked.  
  
"They almost completely cancel out the 'I' and add an 's'. So it's Loo- iss," Louis said. "They slaughter a lot of French words. They pronounce Paris wrong, so it's Pair-iss. And Des Moines. It's Dez Moinz. They abuse the name Amelie`, so it's Emily.  
  
"Yes, I've heard that a lot," Remus nodded. "I took French when I was younger, and I like the French pronunciations better."  
  
"Like what?" Anya said. "Teach me one of them."  
  
"English say 'choclat'. If it were spelled in England the way French pronounce it, it would be spell S-H-O-C-O-L-A-T. So it would be pronounced 'shocolat'. And you have the 'shoclat-lry', instead of confectionery shop or candy store," Louis said.  
  
"Yes, that's one of the ones I like. I tried to use the term chocolatry once, but they didn't understand what I was trying to say," Remus said.  
  
And a lot of conversations would turn this way. They would start out telling a story, and it could turn to anything, and then it would take another strange turn and they would end up comparing accents and customs. From there is may turn to books and then on to something else. And it would always end with someone else walking in on the group and sneer at them. But it didn't matter. Remus was still happy. 


End file.
